


Divine Intervention (Of the Pornographic Variety)

by Mrs_SimonTam_PHD



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Like zero foreplay, Priest!John, Priest!kink, Sex in a Church, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-22
Updated: 2017-05-22
Packaged: 2018-11-03 13:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10968315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD/pseuds/Mrs_SimonTam_PHD
Summary: Father Winchester was probably the hottest man alive, in your opinion. And a priest. Some "divine intervention" took place





	Divine Intervention (Of the Pornographic Variety)

**Author's Note:**

> This is for the wonderful @manawhaat, as she once again helped me with my All-American/Grandma fund! I loved writing this for her, even when my muse went “OH LOOK A HUNT” and disappeared. The world needs more priest!John.

You couldn’t help but not pay attention in Mass.

You’re not sure how anyone with eyes could pay attention in Mass. Or anyone with blood flow, even if said blood flow was often directed away from your brain.

How could anyone pay attention to the words of Christ with Father John Winchester on the pulpit?

Father Winchester was handsome, tall, and strong. He was kind and patient, and had the talk of someone who’s seen and done too much. He was a Marine before he became a priest, and you caught him sometimes walking more like a Marine than a man of the cloth.

It was hot, though, no matter what he did.

You thought at first that it’d pass. Everyone has a crush on an authority figure at some point in their lives, right? You remember in seventh grade you had the biggest crush on your English teacher, Mr. Kilgore; and again when you were a sophomore in high school, the crush on your swimming coach. But those passed; you moved on from those.

You’ve had this fucking crush on Father Winchester since you were eighteen and it wasn’t going the fuck away.

So lost in your thoughts, you nearly missed his announcement to go give the Peace of the Lord. Startled out of them, you stood up and began greeting the other members of the congregation, making your way to greet Father Winchester.

“May the peace of the Lord always be with you,” Father Winchester smiled when you reached him, pressing both of his hands around your single hand. It was comforting, and sent an electric thrill up your spine.

“And also with you, Father,” you replied with what you hoped wasn’t too dopey of a smile.

He smiled and patted your shoulder and moved onto the next congregant. You continued on with the Peace, laughing to yourself as you noticed the antics of three figures in the back of the church as one person fell while they were genuflecting towards the end and the other two were stifling giggles.

Your next test- or trial, as it were- was during Communion. You had done confession before church, with what sounded like Father MacLeod, so you made your way up to the altar and folded your hands neatly across the gate in front of the altar and ducked your head down in silent prayer.

When you saw Father Winchester’s feet move into your view, you turned your face up and slightly opened your mouth to receive your Communion wafer.

Father Winchester reached you, and your eyes connected briefly. His dark brown eyes seemed to widen and you wondered what kind of picture you painted in his eyes. In his brain.

“The body of Christ, the bread of Heaven,” he intoned in his dark, yet sweet voice. Like dark chocolate for the ears. You slipped your tongue out and felt the wafer being placed on your tongue. You withdrew it, lowering your Y/E/C eyes in thoughtful prayer as you mentally reviewed your outfit. You were dressed simply, yet for church, with black heels and black slacks and a dark blue blouse that only had the top two buttons undone. You couldn’t have shown cleavage, especially because you wore a black camisole underneath. Your hair was pulled up and back in your favorite clip, a black bow. Your make up was light and neutral, you had kept it to mascara and foundation.

You sipped the wine when the deacon brought it around and you crossed yourself after receiving it, before smoothly removing yourself from the kneeling position and going off the altar, unaware that John Winchester’s eyes followed you.

You were never more thankful for the potlucks that happened after church. You were so hungry, you filled up your plate with Vivian’s amazing breakfast casserole and picked up a cup of coffee before sitting down next to your best friend, Lucy.

“Saw Father Winchester give you the look,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Shut up,” you mumbled, stabbing your casserole viciously. She was the only one who knew of your crush.

“Hey, you’re talking to the one who has an eye on the guy who chose his confirmation name to be Lucifer,” she pointed out. “And Father Winchester’s godson.”

“Which one, he has three,” you replied with a smirk.

“Samuel,” she shrugged, taking a sip of her coffee. “Maybe the two of them at the same time.”

You shoved her playfully when her coffee was safely on the table. “Sinner,” you teased.

Lucy’s answering grin was vicious and before you could ask what she had in mind she leaned in close to your ear and breathed heavily, obviously imitating Father Winchester, “Confess to me your sins, my child.”

“You little-” you stopped yourself from swearing as Lucy cackled maniacally.

“Look, a little crush is healthy, Y/N/N,” she said as she returned to shoving food into her face. “Hell, even if he decides to break the vow with you, nothing’s wrong with two consenting adults. Just use protection.”

You hated that she was right. “Are you sure you’re Catholic?” you teased.

Lucy laughed happily, taking another sip of coffee. “Fairly certain. I’m just like more of a liberal Catholic.”

“Liberal Catholicism, I like it,” you giggled. “So, did he really give me the look?”

Lucy nodded, her eyes trained on Nick and Sam, her own two crushes and other two best friends, over by the door. “Oh yeah. Especially when you were on your knees during Communion. Fairly certain I saw a bulge, too.”

You shoved her again. “Seriously?” you asked.

“He dresses to the left, I’m certain.”

You stared at her. She looked at you innocently. “What? I pay attention when my best friend seeks an interest in someone. You know this.”

“How long have you been staring at his crotch?” you hissed.

“On and off for three months,” she shrugged. “Best friends need to know these things.”

You rolled your eyes. “How long are your confessions?” you murmured lowly.

“They take anywhere from fifteen to forty-five minutes, depending on what kind of week I’ve had,” Lucy said.

You snorted. Lucy’s bad weeks tended to give you life.

“Hey, Lucy,” Nick said, coming to sit down in front of the two of you. “Do you want to go out sometime?”

You giggled to yourself. You had talked to both Nick and Sam about your friend’s crush on them. It was the least you could do, since she’s heard you babble about your crush on Father Winchester and you wanted your friend to be happy. She’ll definitely be happy when she hears that she doesn’t have to choose between the two.

Lucy blushed and nodded. “Sure, when?” she asked, taking a bite of her casserole.

“Right now?” Nick suggested. “Sammy was thinking of heading to Taco Bell before heading back to my place.”

Lucy nodded and smiled. “Sure, let me just finish this and we can go,” she said.

Nick beamed and nodded. “Alright, we’ll be by the door,” he said, and left as quick as he came.

Lucy turned her feral gaze onto me and poked me with her plastic fork. “I blame you,” she murmured.

“Wear protection and try not to scream blasphemies,” you whispered back, watching her wolf down her food.

“The same goes for you,” she teased.

“Like I’m getting laid anytime soon,” you groaned.

Lucy smirked in a somewhat knowing manner and whispered in your ear, “You should place your faith in the Lord.”

“I fucking hate you,” you groaned, shoving at her.

She giggled and kissed your cheek in a sisterly way. “You love me, and you know it.”

“Go have fun with the boys,” you said, waving her off. “And text me the details!”

Giving a wave, Lucy basically ran to Nick and Sam, looping her arms around their waists. You couldn’t help but laugh. They were so tall, and your friend was so short. The three were already friends, but now… You wondered whom Lucy would say she’s dating.

So caught up in your little plan, hearing Lucy laugh and protest against Nick driving (“You do 100 in a 25 mile an hour zone! No, Nick!”) that you didn’t even see Father Winchester sit down in front of you until he cleared his throat. You jumped and nearly spilled your own coffee. “Oh, hello, Father,” you said, smiling warmly at him, ignoring every other bodily response you had to the man.

“Hello, Y/N,” he said, smiling back. “How are you today?”

“I’m doing good, how are you?” you asked pleasantly.

“Fairly well. Could you come by my office after you’re done eating?” he requested. “I found something you might be interested in.”

You wondered if God was getting back at you for putting your best friend into a polyamorous relationship. “Sure, not a problem, Father,” you said happily.

He nodded and smiled. “Thank you, Y/N.” He left in the opposite direction, running into Dean who was exclaiming “THEY TOOK MY CAR, FATHER!”

Knowing who “they” were, you shot off a text to Lucy. _What kind of witchcraft did you pull? He asked to see me in his office._

You didn’t have to wait long for an answer.

_Lucy’s a bit occupied, it’s Nick. I have no idea what that means, but she said no witchcraft was pulled and that you should go for it. I don’t want to know._

You giggled.

_Tell her to use protection and lots of lube. I’ve heard you two are big boys._

_I have my phone. Fuck off. You use the protection. And he’s also big._

_Stop staring at his junk, or I swear to God I’m telling N &S every little dirty thing you like._

_Nick again. I’d like to hear these things._

You snickered as you continued to hear Dean exclaim about how they took his car. _Did you take Dean’s car?_

_We plead the Fifth. It’s the only car big enough for three grown adults to get it on in the backseat._

_Your death wish continues, it seems._

_We’ll fill it up before we drop it off. We’re not going to leave Dean stranded at church._

Shaking your head, you told Nick he and Sam better take really good care of you or else they were in for a beating. Not waiting for a reply, you put your phone on silent and made your way up to Father Winchester’s office. You knocked lightly on his door.

“Come in!”

You opened and closed the door behind you, seeing Father Winchester bent over a book and a legal pad. “You said you had something you’d like for me to see, Father?”

“Yes, have a seat Y/N,” he said in absent minded tone of voice. “It’ll be a moment.”

Nodding, you sat down in the chair across from his desk and pulled up your phone, finding a text from the three friends.

_The day either one of us hurts Lucy is the day we die, Y/N/N._

Smiling, you didn’t reply and proceeded to pull up the first book on your Kindle reading list and began to read, happy to see that it was one of your favorite books, Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. The movie may’ve been shit, but you loved the book.

You were so engrossed in your reading that you didn’t realize that Father Winchester had finished whatever he was doing, had gotten up, and was now behind you, reading over your shoulder.

“Why is Ron being such a dick to Hermione?” he rumbled.

You jumped about a foot in the air and turned your head around to find Father Winchester’s face so close to yours. You could feel his hot breath on your skin, and your eyes dropped briefly down to dark pink, almost red lips before flicking back up to warm chocolate eyes.

“Because he’s got the emotional range of a teaspoon and he’s fourteen, I’m not surprised,” you said with a soft smile. “How are you, Father?”

“Much better, you?” he asked.

“Good.” He hadn’t moved out of your personal space, but you weren’t complaining. You inhaled the dark, woodsy scent of his cologne and felt your eyes fall down to half closed. That kind of scent was liable to drive you insane.

You heard him murmur a prayer in Latin- you’re not sure which one- before you felt the tip of his finger tilt your chin up and his lips on yours, pressing you into a gentle kiss. He was allowing you room to move away, to say no, but you weren’t going to let this opportunity pass you by. Carpe diem and all that crap, right?

You pressed your lips more firmly against his, turning in your chair to wrap your arms around his neck. One of his hands reached around and cupped the back of your head, pressing you as close as he could and you moaned audibly.

Kissing Father Winchester was like Heaven went to Hell and came back with a little baggage. You blindly dropped your phone onto his desk so you could grasp at his biceps. You felt the strong muscle underneath his shirt and you dug your nails in lightly.

Suddenly, you felt his hands around your waist, lifting you up and you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist as the two of you kept kissing. Fuck, this was a scene right out of one of your fantasies, and like Hell you were going to let it slip away. You ground your hips down against his belt, moaning as you felt his hardened length against you.

“Fuck,” you whispered against his lips, the two of you barely parting so you could breathe. Unfortunately, oxygen was a needed thing, or else you would’ve been completely content with kissing him and doing nothing else that didn’t involve his lips on yours.

“I’d have to agree, sweetheart,” he rumbled and you melted, your chest heaving underneath of your clothes.

“I need you,” you whispered softly, as if the words would break the spell surrounding you. As if he’d come to his senses and realize his vows of chastity. Leave you with nothing more than a kiss and dreams of more.

“I do too,” he whispered back, tucking a strand of your hair back away from your face and behind your ear. “God, I need you Y/N.”

That was the permission you needed, and you leaned forward, clutching him tighter to you as you devoured his lips again, his surprised groan sending an electric thrill to every neuron.

He backed you up against his desk, sending papers and Bibles scattering as he laid you down. You heard the sound of a rosary crashing to the floor as your hands reached up to grab the edge of the desk behind you, arching your back.

“Fucking hell, baby girl,” Father Winchester groaned, and that sent a pulse of heat to your already aching core.

You heard rather than felt your heels fall off your feet and onto the floor as strong, calloused fingers trailed themselves along your exposed skin above your slacks.

You gave a wiggle of your hips. You wanted him four years ago. You needed him now.

He gave a low rumbling chuckle, one that made you shiver. “Patience is a virtue, baby girl,” he murmured. “I’ve been wanting this a long time too, but I want to take my time.”

“Can we afford to?” You asked, suddenly worried. You knew Father MacLeod liked to linger after services, and who knows if Dean was still around…

“Don’t worry, baby girl,” he murmured. “We can take as much time as we need.”

“But Dean-” you were cut off by Father Winchester’s finger on your lips. Automatically, your tongue darted out to lick the pad.

He smiled as he smiled down at you reassuringly. “Dean’s occupied. He’ll be fine. As long as Sammy returns the Impala.”

You nodded mutely, trusting him. “And… Father MacLeod?”

“Crowley is locked in his own office, no doubt sipping on some Scotch and mumbling about idiots in the church,” He said soothingly. “Do you want me to lock the door?”

You nodded numbly.

He withdrew from your body and crossed the room in long strides to lock the door.

The moment you heard the little click of the lock sliding into place, all the tension seeped out of you and you relaxed against the desk, gasping when you felt the priest’s lips back on yours in a hurry, his broad fingers undoing your slacks nimbly and pushing them and your black lace panties down and off your body. Cold air hit your sex and you shivered.

His fingers started deftly undoing the soft dark blue buttons on your blouse. Your legs scrambled for purchase against the dark oak desk, panting and mewling in need.

“What do you need, baby girl?” he rumbled darkly.

“You, Father, please,” You whispered.

“Call me John,” he purred, his hand going from your hip to in between your legs, sliding two fingers deep into you.

You let out a groan and ground his fingers against the heel of his hand, moaning as you found friction for your clit.

“Need me buried in you, baby girl?”

“John, please,” you whimpered.

Swiftly, he stood up, and hurriedly undid his belt and fly, reaching into black cotton boxers to pull out his cock. Your brain short circuited briefly, thinking about to what Lucy had said.

You think she must’ve meant length, but holy fuck was he thick.

You couldn’t think any more on the subject, for he was lifting you and pinning you to the wall next to the door. You instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling the head tease your folds before he buried himself deep into you.

You gave a cry of pleasure, only to find his hand covering your mouth as he stared at you intently.

“Do you want Father MacLeod or Dean coming in?” he whispered softly.

You slowly shook your head no, whimpering as he gave a roll of his hips.

Slowly, surely, his hips built up speed and firmness, testing to see what made you moan the most. The hand covering your mouth kept the worst of the noises down to a more manageable level, but you were still noisy. Not saying that John wasn’t making any noises. In fact, the priest was panting and groaning heavily into your ear.

“Fuck, baby girl, you feel so good,” John whispered in your ear. “You feel so fucking hot and tight around me…”

You moaned and arched into his chest, away from the wall, feeling your hips slam into the wood behind you.

A crash from the other side of the two of you made you seize up, on the verge of cumming.

“Do you want to cum, baby girl? Want to cum on my cock?” John hissed, close himself as he ducked his head to your shoulder.

You nodded your head rapidly, feeling your eyes slip closed. You gasped as his teeth met the flesh of your neck, moaning as you felt him suck your skin into his mouth.

His other hand fell away from your mouth and grasped your hips, keeping you upright as much as you could.

“John, please, I’m so close, please,” you begged. What made you start begging for the priest to allow you to cum, you’re not sure. Divine intervention of the pornographic variety, perhaps.  

“Cum whenever you want, baby girl,” John soothed right before he kissed you deeply.

The moment his lips, surrounded by tantalizing whiskers, touched yours, you came, digging your nails into his biceps hard enough to draw blood while he fucked you relentlessly. Your eyes slipped closed and a low, ragged moan of ecstasy was pulled from your lips.

He didn’t last much longer, and a few thrusts later was spilling into you with a low groan.

Finished with your high, you slumped in his arms, the adrenaline and the high of fucking starting to calm down.

He held you close, pulling out of you gently and just held you close. Making sure you could stand on your feet, he allowed you to lean against him and take refuge in his strong arms.

“What does this mean for us?” you asked softly, keeping your face hidden in his dark black shirt.

He rubbed your back soothingly. “Will you be here on Wednesday for services?”

You nodded. “Unless I’m sick,” you said. “I’ve got the readings on Wednesday.”

“Would you like a repeat?” he asked softly.

You nodded again, smiling. “Mhm.”

He chuckled softly and kissed the top of your head. “Y/N, only you could make an old man like me break vows of chastity.”

You gave a soft laugh. “I think I tapped more into the Marine in you.”

He laughed warmly. “You’re right. That was definitely more like I was back when I was in the Marines.”

You snuggled into him more, not wanting to leave his embrace.

He allowed this for a little while longer before gently patting your rear. “Go put your clothes on, baby girl, and see if Sammy’s done with the Impala yet.”

You giggled and nodded, doing as he asked. Your legs were tender and well used, but you didn’t mind the hissing that came with pulling on your slacks and panties, finding your phone on the mess you made laying on the desk of the priest.

There was a text from Lucy.

_Impala’s back in the lot, right where Dean parked it this morning. I’m staying the night at Nick’s, we took his car. I want details, missy._

“Impala’s back,” you reported, smiling up at the priest as you slipped your blouse back on, buttoning it.

John smiled and cupped your neck tenderly. “You may want to wear high collared shirts,” he murmured.

“Did you mark me up, Father?” you teased.

He chuckled darkly and kissed you. “Maybe. Scarves are also a good option.”

You chuckled into the kiss, smiling. “I should get going,” you sighed regretfully.

“Wednesday, after services,” he reminded you.

“I won’t forget,” you promised, walking to the door. You stopped, however, noticing the large ornate wooden crucifix on the floor. “Did we-”

“We did,” he confirmed with a laugh.

You laughed and gave a mock salute. “Got it. Hope it’s not broken- that would suck.”

Blowing him a kiss, you sauntered out of his office and out of the church, on your way home to wait until Lucy has enough energy to call you so the two of you could gossip about finally getting with your crushes.

After all, what are best friends for?

“Divine intervention of getting laid better not be her,” you murmured as you threw your car in gear and started driving home, with an ache of satisfaction between your legs and a mark of possession from a priest on your neck.

It was then that you realized you and John didn’t use protection.

“Fuck.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
> 
> Comments and Kudos are Shiny!!


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